


other ways tv rots your brain.

by canniballistics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Couch Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is bored as balls. Wonder what's on TV?</p>
            </blockquote>





	other ways tv rots your brain.

**Author's Note:**

> Written entirely on my phone for a friend; took me a bajillion years to finish. It's just for fun, but I hope someone out there likes it!

In all honesty, he didn't have a good excuse. It had started off simple enough - there was nothing to do and Tony was bored enough to drive anyone _not_ him crazy. There were no missions (at least not for him), no company except for JARVIS, no upgrades or tinkering to be done; he couldn't even go for a casual "patrol flight" until the calibrations on his new repulsors were complete. Which was what JARVIS was doing for him. Tony Stark was a man of action, of constantly needing to do something (even if it usually wasn't in his own best interests), and there was nothing. He was bored out of his skull. So he'd flopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV. Out of all six hundred channels, there had to be _something_ to watch, right?

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong, and god was he regretting it. For once, it was a quiet day on the news; he wasn't in the mood for Oprah, didn't care about any cartoons with shape-shifting dogs and bubblegum princesses, felt his arteries clog as Paula Deen poured enough butter for a small country into her recipe, Super Nanny— Jesus, was this what he was paying for every month? What a load of crap.

Where was Thor? He needed Thor. It was always buckets of fun watching TV with him; what could be better than sitting an Asgardian down in front of daytime television? He seemed to have an affinity for soaps, or at least didn't get frustrated with them like he did other shows. The god had almost _destroyed_ the TV the second time he'd shown him Jersey Shore. The first time, Thor had simply demanded to know what a "Snooki" was and why the aforementioned woman was so orange. (Not that he could really blame him, that color couldn’t be healthy for a normal human being.) Jersey Shore was a no-no, but Days Of Our Lives was a go. Who'd have thought? Yeah, Thor was always a blast to watch TV with, but it was always a double edged knife. Great for entertainment value, usually bad for his electronics.

Or there was Steve, too; Steve was pretty good to watch TV with. Quiet, easily placated, especially enchanted with the travel channel, Man vs Wild, and Discovery. Also the Food Network, but who could resist that? It was like porn for the stomach. 

But no matter what Steve's tastes, though, it only mattered when Tony could get him to sit down long enough to watch something. There was always some evil for Steve to conquer, no matter how small. Like using a microwave, or discovering the dregs of the internet. Rescuing kittens from trees. Cell phones with wifi. Cell phones in general. A goody two shoes from the 1940s, it was always amusing to check the guy's browser history while he was out to see what he'd been up to, but somehow Tony still preferred watching TV together instead. Besides, the Super Soldier only ever got to the interesting stuff unintentionally. There was nothing quite like "accidentally" flipping to Spice TV while they were sitting together and seeing Mr Giant Boy Scout's face go red, all the way to his ears and down his neck. It was cute, really. Endearing.

It kind of made him want to find out just how far the flush went. Skin like that, it had to go pretty far.. Was it a whole-body thing (he did so love the whole-body thing) or was it contained to just his neck and upper body? Which, that wasn't a bad thing either. Too bad it'd be weird to just rip his clothes off the next time it happened in order to find out.

But hey, speaking of Spice...

Tony wasn't sure how long he'd been watching before Steve came in - it was some miniseries set in a Catholic school, which would be cute if it hadn't been done a million times before. His own personal love life was more interesting than this. Or it had been, at any rate. Now that this "Avengers Initiative" was taking up all his time, he hadn't had nearly as much time to be as suave and charming as his libido needed him to be.

"Tony, what are you— Oh. This again?"

Okay, for Steve's sake, he was going to pretend he didn't hear the exasperation in his voice as he came up behind the couch, the tired resignation. Note to self: it looked like Spice wasn't going to cut it anymore, time to find a better (but not _too_ extreme) alternative. No use scarring America's Golden Boy for life. Maybe next time he should go for some Casa Erotica. Tony dropped his head against the back of the couch, looking up at Steve and flashing him a quick grin.

"Yeah, well— everyone else is away on their own errands, and I've been left to fend for myself. Perks of being me, y'know. Speaking of, though, I thought you had a mission to take care of. What happened to that?"

"Nothing 'happened,' Tony. I completed it."

...if he didn't know better, he'd guess that that was a touch of smugness in the Captain's voice. Well, fine. Way to be a jerk about getting a mission and leaving poor Tony all by his lonesome. Ass. A scowl planted itself firmly on his face, and he—

Would have said something particularly snarky (and brilliant too, obviously) if there weren't suddenly hands on his cheeks and lips against his. Tony's eyes went wide, and maybe he would have been a little less perplexed if he hadn't been staring at the underside of Steve's chin. (He missed a spot while shaving. Even Captain America couldn’t do everything completely perfect, it looked like.)

Some weird frustrated noise came from his throat as Steve pulled away, and Tony just stared at him.

"Uh. Cap— _Steve_. What was that for?"

God, smug was a terrible (and great) look on him. "For all the times you've flipped to this channel while we were watching TV." That grin widened a little. "Come on, you don’t think I wouldn’t notice after a couple times? Give me a _little_ credit, Tony. There's no way you could have kept 'accidentally' doing it."

...well. That posed a rather interesting question, then. Why did he keep playing along? And sure, yeah, maybe he'd hoped that Steve had known it was just to mess with him, but he didn't think that there would be payback for it. Or such _interesting_ payback. He smacked his lips a bit, narrowing his eyes. Fine, if Steve wanted to go this route, it was on.

"Huh. Okay. Y'know what, I give it a five."

"I'm sorry?"

A casual shrug then, and oh, he was never going to get tired of teasing him. "A five. Out of ten. Or, if you wanna get technical, a five on a scale of one to 'take-me-now-I'm-yours'. Which, by the way, is usually where I'm at."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, and Tony just grinned at him. "That kiss? I give it a five. I'm a little let down to be honest, Cap. I expected better from you. I mean, I'm even giving you some slack since, y'know, naturally cryogenically frozen for a- a pretty long time, which is a feat all by itself, but stimmph—”

Okay, so he really should have expected it after goading him like that. And hey, maybe he did, halfway. What really mattered was that Steve was kissing him again, and that when he pulled away the blush was there. Tony couldn't help just a little smirk up at him, smacking his lips for effect. Huh. Guess he found another way to make him blush.

Game on.

"Okay- That was better. Not by a whole lot, but definitely better. Y'know, it—"

"Oh, what, you're going to give me pointers? That's real considerate of you, Tony." Steve sounded just a little indignant as he spoke, the corners of his mouth downturned and arms crossed over his chest (god was that just the most endearing thing), and Tony, for the life of him, did not know why. Well, maybe he did, but the important thing was that Steve was wrong. For the most part. Pointers. He could definitely do that, if he wanted.

Another quick glance at the blond's stance, and there was an internal sigh. Damn. Tony rubbed his fingers over his mouth, along his facial hair. If he wasn't careful, he was going to become smitten. 

Smitten. Fitting word, really. To become infatuated, and a hard blow. Smitten and smote. Like the fist of an angry god.  Possibly even a Norse one. That's how he felt at the sight of the man in front of him: punched in the face with some random fondness for the guy, and it sent him reeling. But hey, he was the king of bad decisions, wasn't he? Reigning monarch for the last however many years of his life. His whole life, even. Maybe for once, he could make the right choice.

"Well, actually, uh- yeah, I guess I _was_ going to say that it works better when you're both facing the right way." A shrug, settling back on the couch just so, making some space in what he hoped would be taken as an unspoken invitation to join him. Then again, who cared about subtlety? "But hey, if you're asking for more tips, who am I to turn you down? Get over here and pucker up, Stevey. I'll show you how it's done, critique and all that good stuff- Hey, I can even pretend I'm Simon Cowell or something if it'll make you feel better. Do you even watch American Idol? Never mind, not important. But uh, my British jerkoff accent is a little rusty. Just a warning, no worries. I can pretend to be Sherlock Holmes, dissect your ‘making out’ technique, see if that works for you."

Noise, it was all just noise to cover the distinct realization that - well _shit_ , he actually did want Steve to come sit down and make out with him. Make out, maybe a little fondling. More, if Steve was interested. Too soon for that, though, it felt like, and even though _Tony_ was the kind of guy to get into the good stuff pretty quickly, Steve was an old-fashioned sort of man. Anything too crass would probably make him blow a fuse somewhere in that hard head of his. (Hell, was it even legal for two guys to play tonsil hockey back in the 40's?) So for now, maybe just something fun, something good, something that hey, maybe might interest him in more at a later date. 

Date. Heh. A date, yeah, that'd be good, preferable really, and maybe Steve would be more inclined to say yes after one. And then, maybe he'd say yes to "the good stuff" after a few more. Sure, maybe he'd get into it with a disposable but nice pair of legs, pretty face; but this pretty face _wasn't_ so disposable to him, and not just because they were teammates. Weird. Maybe he was already smitten. ( _Shit._ ) Tony couldn't blame him, though, if Steve preferred a few dates before smooching, and he turned to propose it when the couch cushions gave a great _whoosh_ as Steve sat down. 

Well. That. Was a little unexpected (was it really?), and Tony opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. What was that saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth? Don't do it? It sounded like something Rhodey'd tell him. But hey, Rhodey wasn't here, and he wasn't looking at a gift horse's mouth. He was looking at Steve's, and Tony sure as hell wasn't complaining. 

"Wow. Uh. Okay- So." 

...what the hell was he supposed to do? Just grab his face and go at it? Maybe this was a mistake - he hadn't thought it through well enough, didn't know what he was doing, really - _why_ did Steve have to take him up on it? He'd been so ready to just get shut down, laugh it off as a joke, go their merry separate ways. A low chuckle, nervous as he rubbed a hand against his cheek. Well. There was really nothing for it but to do it, right? Had to save face anyway, and hey, Cap was willing to make out with him. That had to count for something, right? Steve was willing to make out with him, and no one else was home. It was a no lose scenario.

Hopefully.

A glance toward the doorway, wondering if this was really the best place for this - what if someone else came back early? He'd be accused of tainting Mr Perfect. Doubtful either of them would ever hear the end of it, either, and what if it scared Steve off? He was like some kind of exotic animal, it was a miracle he'd even gotten this far with him. 

Sitting on a couch, about to make out. 

Shit. 

"Okay, so, first you gotta..." 

And it hit him that really, he didn't have much of an idea on how to _instruct_ someone on kissing well. For something that came naturally to someone who could talk too much, it was surprisingly difficult to vocalize, and Tony rubbed his beard as he thought. 

"...get in close, like so, and- yeah, that's good enough, okay, now just.. You wanna make sure your lips aren't too dry or it'll be like making out with a sandbox. And they can't be too wet or it's just gross. And then you just kind of lean in, and... Hm. Yeah, y'know what, why don't we just—"

Screw it. It was awkward and weird to try to explain, and hey, Tony had said he would show him, right? So he reached out to grab the collar of Steve's shirt and pull him close, deciding to just jump right in. 

The third time they kissed, there was still a bit of the awkwardness from before, but this time, their lips fit together like puzzle pieces, maybe the briefest touch of their noses before it felt just right. _Perfect_ , he'd even go so far as to say, and things like this just weren't perfect, had never been before; not like this, and definitely not with Steve. Then again, it'd never been with Steve before, so maybe that explained it. A small part of him worried in the back of his head that that smiting was going to happen, if it hadn't already. But hey. 

Steve Rogers was kissing Tony Stark back. He had no fucks to give over whether or not he was smitten. Let it be so, or whatever the words were.

It started out slow, cautious - really just feeling Steve out, trying to see what he liked, what he was okay with. Different from what he was used to (firm lips as opposed to soft, slow and explorative instead of heat and wanting) but that was okay too. Didn't want to scare him away, after all; besides, from the way Steve was returning his kisses, Tony didn't really think that was going to be much of a problem. He slid his fingers over skin and firm muscle, brushing at the hair at the nape of Steve's neck as he moved his other arm to wrap around his shoulder, pull him just a little closer. Breathing? Who needed to do that? He had all he needed right now. Screw basic human function. 

It became a little more apparent that hey, air was necessary maybe, when a pressure on his hip that he hadn't previously noticed shifted to the small of his back. Steve's hand. Steve's hand was on his back, pulling him towards him and _drawing abstract patterns through his shirt_ and okay yeah maybe this was a pretty damn good time to relearn how lungs were supposed to function, because if he didn't, then Tony was pretty sure he'd never breathe again. 

(Though really, weighing breathing against making out with _Steve Goddamn Rogers_ , right now he was pretty sure he'd go with the latter.)

Which made him think. 

"Okay, y'know, something's not- Something doesn't really add up, how can you be so good at- at _that_ and still be all coy and coquettish and asking me to demonstrate for you? I mean, no really, _how_ , is it some kind of trick, can I use it to uh, to get people to do what I say? Is it Jedi magic? C'mon, you gotta teach me—"

"Tony..." 

"Don't hold out on me, I want to know–"

" _Tony._ "

That shut him up, and he sat back, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

Steve just grinned. "Shut up." And started kissing him again.

Yes sir, Captain sir. 

Somehow, some time later, Tony found himself half in Steve's lap, with the man's shirt missing and his own unbuttoned to just beneath his arc reactor. Guess Steve didn't have a problem with "more," and that didn't bother Tony in the slightest. It sent a strange thrill through him to feel fingers trace around the metal there, tinged with equal parts arousal, excitement, and fear. He knew Steve was nothing like Obadiah, too goody two-shoes to even dream of it; but that betrayal of having it pulled right from his chest by someone he'd trusted with everything - that was going to stay with Tony. His fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulled his hand away. A light kiss to the palm before setting that hand at his thigh. 

"So. Cap. Steve." 

A low laugh, and there was a forehead pressing into his neck. Oh god. Had to resist the temptation to bite at his earlobe, see what that'd do. "Yeah, Tony?"

"Stop me if I'm wrong, but uh," this is way more talking that he wanted to be doing right now. But he had to be sure, wanted to know that they could still at least meet each others' eyes tomorrow - "you're shirtless. I'm half of the way there. I take it you're okay with this happening. Because you don't- You're not- I don't want you to think you _have_ to—"

He wasn't sure what the rest of that thought was then, groaning as teeth nipped at the skin of his neck. _Okay_. Maybe he was convinced. Almost. 

"It's fine, Tony. I'm fine. But thanks for your concern." 

He could hear the grin, subconsciously knew it was there when lips brushed against his neck. But hey, then Steve's thumb was tracing abstract patterns along the inside of his thigh and getting even more adventurous, and suddenly he was very definitely convinced. 

Later, if questioned, Tony was positive he wouldn't be able to answer how or when the pants came off. It didn't much matter though; not when he was about nine tenths of the way to naked (just briefs and socks) and Steve was kind of pinning him to the couch (and still half clothed - how he managed that was a mystery). So much for being a boy scout, huh? 

"Y'know, I think the whole of America would be shocked right now to- ngh, see what you're up to." 

Muttered words, just a tease, and the rest of the thought fell away as Steve's teeth grazed one of his nipples, fingers gentle against the scar tissue around his arc reactor. There was just a quiet "mhm" in response before one big hand cupped him through his briefs, and suddenly jack shit mattered. He had to sit up, watch as Steve Fucking Rogers fondled and licked his way down his belly and between his legs, one of his thighs hoisted over one broad shoulder. And then, a sharp breath as Steve pressed his lips to the very apparent shape of his very hard cock through the fabric of his briefs. 

_Oh, fuck **you** , sir._

There was a very idle thought of just how nice the sort of olive tone of his hands looked contrasted to the blond of Steve's hair, but that wasn't the important part and really, why was he trying to think of anything else? Tony laughed, a weird sound when he though about it: somewhere between a laugh and a moan, or maybe the hideous bastard child of the two as Steve mouthed at him through his briefs. The worst kind of teasing, that, and it just turned him on more. Steve's thumbs rubbed along the joints of his legs from the jut of his hips to just behind his sac, teasing while his tongue pressed, and if Tony didn't know any better he would accuse him of being a dirty, depraved sex fiend. 

But god _damn_ did it feel good. 

"Beg pardon, sir, but Captain Rogers is about to enter the mansion."

It took Tony a little too long to register what JARVIS was saying, too invested in the way Steve was pulling the elastic band of his briefs down over his thighs. Excited for this moment, waiting—

"Sir, you may want to cover up."

An aggravated groan as Steve paused at those words, and Tony sat up, glaring around. He didn't like being interrupted, most definitely not when he was about to get blown by...

"Uh. What. Steve?"

He was gone. Tony frowned, more than a little confused. Quick son of a bitch, wasn't he? Where did he go? And for that matter, why was he...dressed....

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. Seriously?"

A wet dream? Someone had to be yanking his chain here. He totally did not just have a wet dream about Captain America. Steve Rogers. _No_. 

He scrambled to shut off the TV, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly in his lap as the man himself walked through the doors. Not a second too soon, apparently, and Tony couldn't help glaring at him. Steve frowned back at him, checking to make sure there was no one behind him before speaking. 

"Something I can help you with, Tony?"

And that, that was just. "You. You are one huge cocktease, y'know that?"

And Tony Stark threw the cushion in his lap at his face, storming out of the room to go take care of himself elsewhere. It was better than jumping his bones, anyway. 

Steve stood there for a few minutes afterward, holding the pillow and more than a little bewildered. 

"...what did _I_ do?"


End file.
